Funeral arrangements
by Silverblaze horse
Summary: Post Reichenbach one-off. Mycroft tries to arrange Sherlock's funeral. Sherlock tries to make Mycroft's life difficult.


'Can we not just skip the funeral thing?' Sherlock looked at his brother as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Mycroft's irritated look only encouraged him. 'Coffin goes in the ground, soil on top, no big fuss, what's the point of all the ceremony anyway.'

Mycroft took a deep breath to stay calm. 'It would be a bit strange, don't you think?'  
'What? It would be perfectly like me.'  
'Yes, that's how _you_ would arrange a funeral,' Mycroft explained. 'However, arranging one's own funeral would be slightly unlikely in this case. Dead people tend to be otherwise occupied.'  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'That's just lazy.' He got an eyeroll back. 'I could have arranged it in advance.'  
'As if you would. You seem to me more like the type that lets others clean up the mess. At least if your life is anything to go by.'  
Sherlock grinned in defeat. 'No worries, Mycroft, in due time I'll clean up _your_ mess.'  
'And I'm sure you're longing for that day with all your heart.'  
'No, just with my soul.' Sherlock smiled innocently.  
Mycroft didn't smile back. 'Let's just get it over with. It's already quite strange that our parents are hardly involved.'  
'And I would really like to keep them that way.'

The doorbell rang and Mycroft swiftly walked over. On his way he changed his expression of snark and sarcasm into grave solemnity.  
The funeral director was a blonde stylish lady in her fifties. 'Good evening, my name is Mandy Peterson, you must be mr. Holmes I presume?'  
'Pleased to meet you,' said Mycroft evenly. Sherlock pointedly noted that Mycroft was being rather sparse with his pretend grief. Time to overcompensate for that. He shook the lady's hand and managed to crank out a tear. 'John Watson, pleased to meet you.'  
Behind the woman's back, Mycroft raised one eyebrow but Sherlock couldn't tell whether it was a comment on the tear or on the name. Probably the tear. Although the name was a tremendous mistake, Mycroft had probably expected it.  
Mycroft made tea for the three of them and Mandy sat down with them at the kitchen table and pulled out a file.  
'I see most things have already be arranged...' Mycroft gave Sherlock a look '...that leaves the cards and the service. We've got a number of options for the cards, or you can make your own text.' She pulled out a binder with example texts. 'You could use 'with great sorrow' or 'unexpectantly'...'  
Mycroft looked at Sherlock 'Neighter of them seem particularly fitting.'  
Sherlock gave him a broad and inappropriate smile, which promptly disappeared when Mandy followed Mycroft's look in his direction.  
'Unexpectantly will do then.' Mycroft said. 'Unexpectantly, I must say goodbye to my beloved brother, etcetera.' He ignored the brother and wrote a few things on a piece of paper.  
Mandy took the paper and nodded. 'Do you have anything in mind for the service?'  
'Right, the service.'  
'What is it?'  
Mycroft sighed 'Sherlock's aquintences probably blame me.' He looked at Sherlock. 'John is probably gonna shoot me on sight.'  
Sherlock smiled. 'Well, I'm here and I haven't shot you yet.'  
'Precisely. It's that word 'yet' that stands out for me.'  
'Don't do a service then. Or a very short one.'  
'Right, In line with my brother's explicit wishes, there will be a minimal service'.

Mandy looked from one to the other, but then here professional discreteness took over and she wrote it down. 'Music?  
Sherlock leaned back. 'Music, why does there have to be music?'  
Mandy looked at him in surprise. 'What about it?'  
'It's just so arbitrary. Why not tapdancing? Or a paintball game? Lestrade would be great at it.'  
Mandy didn't flinch. 'If you really want that we could arrange that. It wouldn't be minimalist, though.'  
'Ok, let's go for the arbitrary music then.'  
Mycroft grinned. 'Valkyrie?'  
Sherlock shook his head. 'You are aspiring to be the first person in the world to Godwin a funeral?'  
Mycroft shrugged. 'Symbolic of our relationship. And...' his smile broadened, 'I just happen to know that my brother loved Wagner.'  
'It's ugly. It's pompous and overly dramatic.'  
'But Sherlock loved it, John. It would be just right. And besides, my brother _was_ pompous and overly dramatic.'  
'Fine,' said Sherlock with clenched jaw. 'Wagner it is then.'

After he had seen Mandy out, Mycroft found Sherlock at the window, staring but not seeing much. Mycroft silently stood next to him.  
Sherlock pulled a face. 'So it's going to be short, boring, and with music I don't like.'  
'That is not immensely uncommon.' Mycroft glanced at him from the side. 'Why do you care?'  
'I don't,' Sherlock said quickly.  
Mycroft didn't answer. Instead, they both went quiet.  
'It's strange that this is how it would end, isn't it?' Mycroft finally said.  
'It wouldn't matter. Not really at least.'  
Mycroft sighed. 'I suppose it wouldn't. But I learned something.'  
Sherlock looked at him in surprise. 'What?'  
'Next time you die I'll let my P.A. do the funeral planning.'  
Sherlock cracked a smile. 'If I do die, don't do the Wagner thing.'  
'I'll resist the temptation.' Their eyes met and they both smiled.


End file.
